


Saving the High Warlock of Brooklyn

by UsedDetour



Series: The (Temporary) High Warlock of Brooklyn [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (but it ended up serving a plot point), (sorta) - Freeform, BAMF Alec Lightwood, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Magnus Bane, M/M, Malec, More Madzie than I planned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 15:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsedDetour/pseuds/UsedDetour
Summary: Malec-focused, initially kind of a tag to 3x15.  Now AU.  Magnus isn't doing so hot, Madzie has an idea, Alec finally fights Lorenzo (well, sorta), Underhill babysits, and tears fall.  A touch of crack!fic in two lines, or so says my beta.





	Saving the High Warlock of Brooklyn

Alec sat next to the bed Catarina had installed Magnus in after spelling the room so no hospital staff would feel the need to enter. A machine emitted soft and regular beeps as Alec fussed over Magnus’ hair, trying to get it to show some of its usual attitude. 

It resisted his efforts, lying flat to a clammy forehead. 

Leg bouncing, fingers tapping, he fussed over the covers and verbally went over tomorrow’s personnel schedule for the Institute.

He couldn’t stop moving, stop talking to Magnus, couldn’t let the room be still. Magnus was never still, even when he was sleeping.

Stillness plus Magnus was bad math.

Chest tight, Alec grabbed Magnus’ hand in both of his own. “You tried to tell me. You tried to tell me how you felt and I brushed you off. I should have paid attention, I should have stopped you from going to Lorenzo. There must have been another way if we just looked for one…”

“Alec.” Izzy walked into the room.

Alec stood, feeling uncomfortable sitting with his back to the doorway right now, even when the intruder was his sister.

“Tell me you have something.”

Slowly, she shook her head no, then stepped forward to hug him forcibly. His arms went around her by reflex, but his mind whirled. Who else could they contact? The Seelie Queen was the last option on their list; if Meliorn had told Izzy there was nothing they could do, even for a price, then they had to go back to the drawing board.

He needed to talk to Lorenzo, but he didn’t want to leave Magnus alone. Resolving to ask Izzy to stay, he was interrupted by her phone buzzing. 

She separated from him to look down. “Two demons terrorizing Chinatown. Again. Why do they like Chinatown so much?”

Alec nodded to himself, he knew this might happen. “Ok, I’ll go.”

“You will do no such thing,” Izzy said, sounding offended but looking down at Magnus. “You don’t think I can lead a team to take care of two measly demons?” 

Alec hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Magnus, but he didn’t want to let his people down. Most likely Izzy could handle anything routine that came up, but if she got hurt as well…

“Stop it, Alec, I mean it.” She shook his arm.

He blinked and focused on her. 

“Stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about the Institute. I promise we will be okay. If anything major comes up, I’ll call you. I promise,” she repeated. “You’ll be more comfortable if I’m there running point, right?”

He nodded, ceding the point. 

“Ok. I can do that for you right now. But I don’t want you sitting here alone. Where is Jace?”

Jaw clenching, Alec admitted, “He’s not coming.”

Izzy opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, tried again, but still stayed silent.

They both knew he’d choose Clary over the rest of them if it came down to it.

Looks like they were there now.

“Well you have to choose someone,” she tried to cover. “Mom or one of the warlocks or any of the team.”

“It’s not safe, Iz. If someone learns Magnus is here and tries to come finish him off…Mom has no protection right now. Luke is in jail.”

“Simon - ?” She offered.

He glared at her.

“Well, someone, Alec. I don’t care who, but I’m not leaving here until you give me a name. Just pick one of the team then. Who do you trust the most outside of family?”

Izzy’s phone buzzed with three more messages. 

He needed her to go deal with the be-damned demons.

“Underhill,” he snapped. 

“Ok, Underhill it is.” She turned to leave, then paused, walked back, and hugged him again until he softened. “I hope he’ll be ok, Alec. I have to believe he will be. You’ll think of something.”

Then she was gone.

He tried, desperately, to think. Of anything.

Rambling aloud, he went over his options again, seeing no recourse. Even if he found Lorenzo, even if he was able to restrain himself and talk to the asshat instead of decapitating him as he was envisioning, from everything Cat had said, there was nothing to be done.

Nothing anyone could do.

The door creaked open once more and Catarina entered, followed by a pretty little girl dressed in a purple, shimmery dress. “Madzie!” He tried to greet her with his normal enthusiasm, but knew he missed the mark by a wide mile.

She came running to him anyway, and he swept her up into his arms. 

It felt better to hold on to someone.

She leaned into him and peered down at Magnus. 

“It was good of you to bring her, Cat. I hope Magnus can hear all of us.”

“I brought her as much for you, Alec.”

Surprised, he glanced at her. 

She gave a sad smile. “Magnus made me promise if anything happened to him, I’d make sure you and Madzie still got to see each other.”

Alec pressed his mouth to Madzie’s hair, anger and love and despair all swirling, battling for control. 

Madzie interrupted his internal tirade. “There’s too much orange.”

He looked around. Saw no orange.

“What do you mean?”

She looked over at Cat, then back down to Magnus. “Can’t you see? The blue is almost all gone. He’s all orange.”

Cat came to Alec’s side, looking down at Magnus, then looking back at Alec, her confusion matching his own. “Madzie, we don’t understand. We don’t see what you’re seeing. Can you help us?”

Madzie spread her hands and fingers out, as though covering Magnus. “Usually he’s a mix of colors, more blue than anything and some of everything else. But the orange took over, and the blue’s almost gone.”

Cat looked at Alec again. “Soul? Chi?”

Alec furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “But what if she’s being literal? I can’t always see his magic, but when I do…it used to be mostly white and blue. But if I’m remembering correctly, I think it’s only been orange since Lorenzo…jump-started him.”

Cat thought out slowly, “Like a blood transfusion, maybe. He got the wrong type, so it’s poisoning him rather than helping. He needs something closer to his own type.”

“A mixture of everyone,” Madzie offered. “His magic is the only magic that looks like a mixture of everyone’s.”

Alec’s body grew excited before his mind could tamp down. “What if we could get a group of warlocks in, to donate magic? It’s what he wanted to do before he went to Edom.”

“Even if that has a chance of working, Lorenzo’s ban on anyone helping Magnus is still in place. You might get a handful of people to help, but not a big group, and not in time. They’re afraid of Lorenzo.”

Alec growled. “He is not the scariest monster in the city.”

Underhill walked into the room, nodded at Alec, and swept the room for security risks. 

And probably monsters.

Alec was done sitting around, done watching the man he loved decline, done watching him slip away.

He pointed to Underhill with one hand, the other still wrapped around Madzie. “You’re now babysitting. Nothing happens to either of them, do you understand?” He pointed to Magnus, to Madzie, then back at Underhill. “Nothing.”

Underhill nodded. Maybe a little warily, but he nodded, accepting his assignment.

Alec put Madzie down and leaned over Magnus, forehead to forehead. “Hang in there, Magnus. Just hang on. Don’t leave me.”

**

Now alone with a warlock child he did not know, Underhill smiled awkwardly. “So…”

Madzie stared at him.

Underhill looked at Magnus, as though he might help.

That probably wasn’t going to happen.

“What do you like to do? Do you like to draw?” There must be some paper in the room somewhere…

“I want to give Magnus some of my magic,” she said, tiny voice certain.

“That’s sweet of you, but we don’t know if that will work. Maybe it’s too dangerous.” He didn’t want the kid blaming herself for what was looking like a bad outcome for Magnus.

“I don’t think I can make this worse,” she said, sounding older than her years and gesturing towards the sweating warlock on the hospital bed.

“Alec trusts you,” she said abruptly. “He doesn’t trust many people.”

“I’m glad you think so, I respect him very much. I hope he does feel he can trust me.”

Nodding to herself, the little girl moved towards him and started climbing into his lap. 

Fearful of doing something wrong, Underhill supported her when she leaned on him but tried not to touch her overmuch.

“I won’t break,” she said. “I need you to hold me up to Magnus while I try something.”

There was nothing in eight years of Shadowhunter school and a dozen years of experience beyond that to tell him if he should stop this kid right now or not.

Blue tendrils crept from her fingers and wrapped around Magnus’ right wrist, coaxing his clenched hand open and branching out, like a sapphire ephemeral hand fitting to his palm.

Then it sank into his skin.

Nodding again, she craned her head to look up at Underhill. “I think it might work. If Alec can get them all here, I think it might work.”

Something about how she said it reminded him of Alec.

He snaked a hand around her waist, supporting her more solidly as she reached out to touch Magnus’ hand. 

“Do you have kids?”

“No, I don’t have kids.”

“You should get one. There’s lots of kids who need a dad. You’d be a good one.”

Speechless, Underhill sat in silence for a handful of heartbeats before he came up with a reply. “You don’t really know me that well, Madzie. I hope I would be, but I’m not so sure.”

“I am,” she replied with the inherent confidence only a child can muster. “You will be.” She left no room for argument.

Bemused, he tried to shift the conversation. “Do you think Alec and Magnus will make good dads one day?”

She beamed at him. “They already are. They’re my dads.”

Cat, coming back to the room, froze as she heard this, wide eyes meeting Underhill’s.

“I have an idea.”

**

Alec strode into Lorzeno’s previous residence (land of The Pot). The gathered warlocks parted to make a path for him, wary but not afraid. 

Though the High Warlock had moved into Magnus’ apartment – or at least made an appearance of doing so as though it was a requirement that he be the biggest asshole possible – it did not seem to have made a dent in the amount of crap in his house, and he still held the monthly warlock gatherings here. More room, less atmosphere. Easier to try to intimidate.

Alec marched past the parted warlocks and picked a spot about twenty feet from Lorenzo.  
If he got much closer, he’d be tempted to try to kill the man. As much as he’d like to, he couldn’t predict what the other warlocks may think of that.

Lorenzo scowled, postured, tipped his chin down and thrust his shoulders out.

Alec stood in front of him, unmoved.

Lorenzo took a threatening step forward, the yellow-orange of his magic beginning to ball around his closed fists.

Alec clasped his hands behind his back loosely.

Lorenzo devolved his scowl to a full on snarl, the colors of his magic seeping into his eyes, lending him a demonic air.

Alec lifted an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn, you little shit. You may be the head of the local Institute, but here you are one Shadowhunter. One lone Shadowhunter will never be a match for any warlock of significance, much less one of my age and power.” 

Alec’s nose twitched a little as though a bad smell wafted near. “Ok, but if you’re going to do more public speaking, I have to warn you against letting those little gobs of spittle spew out of your mouth when you try to be intimidating. It’s gross.”

“Do not try to get a rise out of me, boy. You misunderstand your position here.”

With an easy, mocking smile, Alec answered, “Really. It seems to me I’m the head of one of the largest Clave Institutes in the world at 23 and it’s taken you over 400 years to achieve what is probably the equivalent position in warlock culture.” He tilted his head. “Though my people respect my leadership and yours despise you, so I suppose the comparison isn’t accurate.”

A nearby male warlock in green zebra-striped Zubaz hissed, “What are you doing? He will attack you for baiting him!”

A stream of orange burst from Lorenzo’s hand, slapping the man across the face and leaving an angry, instant bruise.

As the people nearby rustled to move further away or step nearer to the now staggering man, Alec finally moved.

In front of the injured warlock.

He smiled.

This particular smile, though wide in shape, did not hold any hint of mockery, nor any humor at all.

He ordered: “You will stop.”

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You dare tell me how to treat my own people?”

Alec used no tricks. He did not change his posture, he did not advance, he did not activate any runes. But suddenly his presence in the room grew to a disproportionate size. His disgust and resolve and strength could be felt surging through the atmosphere like an antidote to the barely controlled narcissistic rage swirling around Lorenzo.

“If you keep this position, yes, I think I should tell you how to treat your people. You’re an abhorrent leader. My hope is that it’s not necessary, though. I’m not sure anyone here considers you their leader.”

“You arrogant child,” Lorenzo seethed, “what right have you to even be here at a warlock gathering? You don’t even have your pathetic Magnus to hide behind.”

Alec huffed a laugh. “I’ve never hid behind someone in my entire life. And Magnus has never been pathetic his entire life. Can you say the same?”

Infinitely slowly, a shift was taking place in the crowd. Whereas when this started, those gathered were scattered around the room relatively evenly, groups of bodies were now drifting away from Lorenzo. Some closer to the door, some just away.

Lorenzo, despite many bad characteristics, was not a stupid man. He had clearly avoided using direct force on Alec to this point – if the Clave took offense, they could arrest him, or worse. But now having stated aloud his belief Alec had no right to be here, and seeing those who should support him move further and further away, he squared his shoulders. 

He was preparing to attack.

Alec did not know if Lorenzo would be willing to kill him to try to keep control of the warlocks. It was possible. But he had to take that chance.

So he stood, tall and silent.

It was taken for the insult it was meant as. “Get out now,” Lorenzo hissed, advancing. “Leave while you still can.”

“Actually,” a familiar voice rang out from the door, “he may have more right to be here than we realized.” Catarina strode into the room with Madzie held tightly to her side.

Alec twitched, wanting to get the little girl the hell out of here, but he stood his ground. He trusted Catarina. She was intelligent and generally reserved, and she had known both Magnus and Lorenzo for hundreds of years. She loved Madzie. If she was making a play here and now, it was calculated.

A woman who looked like a teenage pixie but whom Alec recognized as one of the oldest local warlocks acted as a voice for the group. “Please explain, Catarina.” 

“Madzie has chosen. Without being asked or persuaded.” 

Muttering filled the room. An unseen man called out, “Why should this be surprising? She’s been with you for months.”

Catarina nodded in acknowledgement and moved further towards the center of the room, turning to face the young girl with gills. “Madzie. You have been in the warlock community now long enough to understand who and what we are. You’ve been to parties and gatherings and you’ve met dozens if not hundreds of local warlocks. If you were to choose your parent moving forward, a mother or father to live with who will raise you until you’re ready to go out on your own, who do you choose?”

Madzie replied directly and solemnly, “I choose to live with you, Cat, as my mother.” 

Catarina reacted with only a small jaw quiver, showing admirable restraint, clearly waiting for something else.

“And,” Madzie continued, “I choose Magnus and Alec as my dads.”

A much louder buzz erupted through the room. 

Alec gave the girl the best smile he could muster, wanting to pick her up but not wanting to draw Lorenzo’s wrath to her. Finally pulling his gaze from Madzie back to his adversary, however, he saw in Lorenzo’s eyes that something had just shifted the balance between them.

Zubaz stepped forward, though keeping Alec between himself and Lorenzo. “There is past precedent for allowing the chosen parent of a minor warlock to have a say in local warlock governance, even standing in for their vote.”

“But those examples were other downworlders,” someone objected.

Another disembodied voice muttered loudly, “We have no governance, just an unwanted dictator.”

“You voted him in,” Alec stated conversationally, “so I presume you can vote him out.”

The room stilled. Alec supposed no one had been brazen enough to state that in front of Lorenzo yet.

He clenched his jaw. “Magnus is dying. He’s dying. Because his body won’t accept Lorenzo’s magic. I don’t know if Lorenzo did something to make this happen, maybe not. But I do know that the rest of you might be able to help, but this asshat put out an order that no one can help him. Why? Can anyone tell me why?”

Lorenzo was swelling.

Alec continued. “If he hadn’t issued that order before our final fight with Lilith, Magnus could have used the combined powers of several of you to defeat Lilith, he wouldn’t have felt the need to go to Edom. He wouldn’t have traded his magic to save the lot of you.”

“He did it to save your parabatai, not to save us.”

“Maybe in part,” Alec allowed, “but he never would have done it if he didn’t think we had to free Jace to banish Lilith. If he thought it would harm you rather than help you, he never would have done it.” Alec struggled to keep his voice even. “He never would have risked his life to fix the ley line tear Lorenzo took credit for.” This set off mutters in the crowd again. “To open a portal dimension to hide you in when Valentine returned. To battle any big bad thing that attacked the city the last hundred years.”

“ENOUGH,” Lorenzo roared, opening his hands and releasing a blast of magic straight into Alec’s chest. 

Alec flew back, hitting the floor hard enough to bounce. 

He rolled his neck, made sure nothing was broken, got up, and walked back to where he had stood before. “Cat,” he addressed quietly. “Would you take her back to the hospital now please?”

She nodded and grabbed Madzie, whose silent eyes were large and afraid. “Alec, I need you to read me to sleep tonight. Ok? Ok??” Madzie’s voice raised higher and higher as Alec didn’t answer, finally silenced by the door shutting behind them.

He turned back to Lorenzo. “Step down as High Warlock.”

Magic slammed into him again, a freight train of force tossing him back to the ground.

The crowd was slowly shifting again, had been since Madzie’s pronouncement. They were still drifting away from Lorenzo, but now seemed to be just as much drifting towards Alec.

He got up, returned to the same spot as though it were marked.

Lorenzo blasted him back down to the floor.

His new friend Zubaz twitched as though he wanted to help him back up but feared the consequences of doing so. “Why don’t you use your weapons? At least your runes?”

“Because,” Alec started as he returned to his spot, and was rudely interrupted by another blast.

He grunted this time on his way back up, testing his right shoulder. “If I act as a Shadowhunter I risk bringing politics into this. I am not acting as the head of the Institute now, though I will say as the head that I dislike dealing with Lorenzo as the warlock representative on our council.”

Lorenzo put him down again, harder this time, slamming him all the way to the back wall of the house. 

Slower, but still game, Alec pulled himself together and returned again to his spot and the conversation, as though nothing had happened. “Because I don’t feel he represents you. And the point of the council is to have all the downworlders represented.”

Lorenzo, looking less stable, took a few steps forward and let loose two streams of magic this time, one throwing Alec back to the floor and the other hitting him once he was down, bouncing his body like a basketball.

He was encouraged by the grumblings coming from the crowd at this. He hadn’t been sure if the group would consider such things dirty fighting, but the rules seemed similar here to what he was familiar with. 

Propping himself on his elbows for a moment before he regained his feet, he added, “If I come in here using my runes and pulling in other Shadowhunters, I risk starting a war, or at least worsening relations. We just narrowly avoided a war between the vampires and remaining wolves, I don’t need to be the instigator of a new problem.”

A voice harshed out, “What wolves? There aren’t any left in New York.”

A female warlock with a white mohawk who was edging closer and closer to Alec stated with resolve, “There are. The dominant wolves and those with fighting experience are dead, but there’s still a loose pack of loners and submissives that weren’t at the Jade Wolf that day and didn’t go running to the fight once it started.”

This time, Lorenzo hit him the moment he got up, before he even reached his making-a-stand spot.

Tossing the asshat a dirty look, Alec regained his feet once more.

Zubaz asked, “Who’s protecting the wolves if there are no fighters left?”

Mohawk jerked her chin towards Alec, who was testing a spot on the back of his head where blood was starting to mat his hair. “That one.”

“Is this true?” demanded a man dressed in chains and what looked to be a Strawberry Shortcake apron.

Alec shrugged as he meandered back to his spot, cracking his neck. “Not forever. I’m waiting to see if Luke gets out of jail or Maia pulls herself together to be the leader Luke seems to think she can be. If that doesn’t work, I’ll talk to the Praetor.”

This time as he hit a table on his way to the ground, he saw stars. 

But he also saw Lorenzo sweating.

“What is the point of this?” asked the respected elderly pixie lady. “What do you hope to gain by having us watch you be beaten?”

“It’s a calculated risk,” Alec stated in a relaxed tone of voice, still feeling in control and showing it. “Can I stand up to whatever he can dish out, assuming he’s not willing to risk the politics of killing me?”

Lorenzo did not seem to take kindly to that comment, shooting a more sustained blast this time that truly threw Alec through the air, slamming him into the ceiling and then to the floor, pinning him for a moment.

Winded, Alec lie still for a moment, coughing up a little blood when he started stirring. 

Well that wasn’t ideal.

But it wasn’t that much blood, either.

He’d had worse. 

“If he just injures me,” Alec paused, unwilling to pant in front of this group, “it’s unlikely to fall back on him in any meaningful way. He did ask me to leave,” Alec rose, unsteadily, but he rose. “I am not here in any official capacity, and the Clave won’t want to start a fight with the warlocks for what they might perceive as a personal fight, especially when they don’t agree with my choice of a boyfriend. Or that I have a boyfriend at all, if we’re being honest.”

Deceptively pulling off looking steady on his feet, Alec returned to his spot. “So, if he is not willing to kill me outright, I can reinforce for you what kind of man he is. What kind of leader. Even what kind of warlock.”

Lorenzo’s stream of magic purposefully slammed him into the table he had struck before, then toppled the same large oak table right on top of him.

The warlocks gathered closely to hear Alec’s next words, as they were hard to hear in his current position.

“He’s not even that good of a fighter. Sure, he has raw power, but think of all the other ways you could have shut me up by now, even without a lot of power. This guy has no finesse. Do you really think he can navigate the downworld intelligently enough to protect you?” Having seen the table coming, Alec had braced his arms above his head and chest. Relatively sure the right arm was now broken, he used his left to try to overturn the table but couldn’t get enough purchase. 

Breathing deeply, he started a small rocking motion with his left arm and knee.

“And even if he could, do you trust that he will act to protect you? When Magnus needed him, when the entire city needed him, he retreated to protect himself.”

Once the rocking motion was built up, Alec pushed hard into one painful heave and was able to topple the table away from himself.

Smiling at his mini victory, he flopped to his left and pushed himself up on his hand and knees, then slowly got up once again.

“This is what persistence looks like,” he said, trying to meet as many eyes as possible in the crowd. Right arm held tightly to his side and blood trickling into his eyes, he stepped forward. “This is what doing everything you can to protect your people, your family, looks like.”

Lorenzo looked rabid. “Fine. You want another level? Fine. I’ll drop you into the pits of hell itself. If they can’t find you, the Clave will never know it was me to begin with.” He opened a portal behind Alec that felt distinctly wrong. 

Gathering a ball of magic to himself again, Lorenzo paced forward, intention clearly to blast Alec through the hell portal.

Alec stilled his wobbles, determined to go down with dignity if his calculated risk failed horribly.

Mohawk stepped to Alec’s side. “I swear I will tell them if you do this, Lorenzo. I will tell the Clave.”

Zubaz stepped up as well – though staying behind Mohawk. “Me, too. You can’t kill us all.”

Pixie elder dared to move between Alec and Lorenzo. “Enough. This is enough now. I call for a vote to remove Lorenzo from the position of High Warlock immediately.”

“You cannot DO this,” raged Lorenzo, fire pouring out of his hands, now aimed at the crowd at large.

He may have a lot of raw power. He may have been the strongest of all of them for all Alec knew. But he was nothing compared to a hundred pissed off warlocks sick of being abused. 

Dozens of small shields popped up, dozens of small spells flew out. Lorenzo ended up pinned to the ground, tied down by what looked like mini fairies with twine, geraniums growing from his mouth to muffle his vitriol and his pants shrunk to an uncomfortable-looking too-small size.

One threat temporarily disabled, Alec swung mostly steadily to check out the gate behind him. “Uh, guys. Could someone close the portal?” The portal through which a very, very long jointed and taloned spider-like leg was now slowly emerging from.

Someone ‘eeped,’ though thankfully not him, and Mohawk closed the portal.

Pixie elder drew two boxes in what looked like bright purple neon, and marked one “dismiss” and one “retain.” She repeated herself, “I call for a vote to remove Lorenzo from the position of High Warlock immediately.” 

Tiny mage lights flickered into existence all around the room, lighting faces in a pleasing glow as they rushed to their creator’s ballot box.

No lights ended up in the “retain” vessel.

Letting out an enormous sigh, Alec relaxed his posture ever so slightly and jumped straight into his pitch. 

“We have one last theory. One last hope for Magnus. If several of you give just the smallest bit of magic to him, the hope is that the mixture of magics will strengthen him, will allow it all to grow as a part of him. I have no idea if it will work. It doesn’t make any sense to me, but Cat seems to think it has a chance. Please I’m begging you, please try.” He dropped all dignity and pled with his eyes to these people who had every right to hate what he represented. 

“Please.” His voice broke.

Pixie elder held up her hand. “We must first choose a new temporary High Warlock to guide us through the change away from Lorenzo’s…style of management and protect us from our own inclination towards believing strength and power are always the same thing. We can hold a proper vote in a week when we’ve had time to discuss our options.”

She eyed Alec. “I have an unusual idea.”

**

Mohawk opened a portal to the hospital and Alec leapt out, running to Magnus, hoping at least some of the warlocks would follow.

He slammed into the door and stopped just short of the bed, blindly moving past Underhill and sweeping a hand down the side of Magnus’ pale, sweaty face. 

He did not look healthy.

Alec glanced back at the door, willing someone to appear. Seconds creeped by, and no warlocks appeared.

Underhill approached, “Boss, you look a little broken.” He swiped his stele over Alec’s iratze. “Your arm looks a little…bent. Can we call Cat to look at that?”

Alec waved him off, watching the door. He was sure if just one of them came, the rest would follow.

Just one.

Zubaz walked through the door, eying Underhill distrustfully. “Who’s this guy?” the warlock inquired of Alec. “He looks fishy.”

Allowing his heavy head to drop down, Alec laughed silently.

Faces appeared in the doorway. 

One after another.

Many, many faces.

Alec let himself hope.

**

Magnus awoke in Alexander’s room at the Institute with a vague sense of something being amiss. Before he could even open his eyes, he felt Alec’s intense and unrelenting gaze boring into him. It had been two days since he first woke up after the influx of mixed warlock magic, but Alec still watched him sleep an obsessive amount.

Blinking, he reassured, “I’m ok Alexander. Honestly, even better than ok. I feel great.” He reached out to his Shadowhunter, who lie parallel, facing him. Somehow they’d ended up on opposite sides of the bed than usual, which felt odd, but – 

He had never put into coherent thought before that they had clearly defined sides of the bed. Unconsciously, he smiled as he wove their fingers together and pulled Alexander closer to him, drawing him into a kiss. 

Alexander followed the kiss as Magnus dropped back to the pillow, arching over him. Relieved to have diffused the brooding so easily, still dreamily drowsy, and now anticipating leisurely heated pleasure based on where Alec’s hands were roaming, Magnus took his time stripping the charcoal gray henley off of his lover.

As Alexander’s abdomen lowered and flattened to his own, Magnus tossed the shirt aside, surprised when a body-warmed pendant suspended from a black cord dangled down from Alec’s neck onto his chest.

He slipped his hand from Alec’s ridiculously appealing hair and palmed the pendant, rubbing his thumb over the familiar surface. Alexander wasn’t one for jewelry, but Magnus was sure he himself had been wearing this when – well, when he collapsed. He looked up into Alexander’s eyes, his smile softening, touched at the visual of the token the other man wore.

Alec suddenly ripped away, sitting up and turning to face the darkened window, the necklace wrenched from Magnus’ fingers.

Bereft, he reached hand to Alexander’s waist, softly grasping just above his hipbone.

At the touch, Alexander shot up, bolting to the window, nose pinched between his right thumb and forefinger as though he had a migraine.

Maybe he did, but Magnus worried for a moment that his touch was not wanted – had he done something when he was out of it? Had he hurt someone?

Had he hurt Alexander?

Momentarily paralyzed with dread and distress, he echoed aloud a memory from their past, hoping it might bring them closer together. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Alexander huffed quietly, but did not turn around. With strain but some trace of humor, he replied, “No such thing,” and gave a half-hearted wave of two fingers over his shoulder.

Immensely relieved, Magnus recalculated. Alexander had fought Lorenzo, maybe he was hurt? And refused healing as he had with his hand after the demon used his body to kill Jocelyn. There weren’t any obvious marks any longer, but that didn’t mean anything when it came to Lorenzo’s dirty tricks.

He needed to get Alexander closer again so he could check for injuries, but how best to approach him? Even when they were arguing, Alec had never turned away from him like this. He tried, “Do you not want to?” Encountering only silence, he added, “Please, come back. I’m happy just to be near you tonight.”

Hand to the bridge of his nose again, Alexander seemed to be fighting with himself over something. 

If Magnus could just look him in the eyes… 

He rose, slowly, and deliberately moved off to the side, approaching but avoiding any possibility of accidentally sneaking up from behind.

Alexander turned his torso away again, face to the wall.

Was he angry? Perhaps angry at Magnus for setting this all into motion? If he hadn’t insisted on getting his magic back, hadn’t reached out to Lorenzo as the one to set it in motion, none of this would have happened.

He tentatively placed his hand on the other man’s back. “Alexander, what is it?”

With a shudder, Alec took a moment to gather himself. “Even I sometimes lose control,” he eventually murmured, hand dropping away from his face to rest his knuckles against the wall.

His hand dripped.

Head clearing but heart heavy at his feet, Magnus slowly pushed at Alexander’s shoulder, grateful when the other man shifted minutely towards him. He moved his hands to Alec’s chin, pulling it down and into the moonlight streaming in from the window.

Tears ran down his face in rivulets, pooling at his collarbone. 

His eyes weren’t squinted, his face wasn’t screwed up, he looked steadily and intensely at Magnus. It was somehow all the more horrible to watch tears leak from the sides of Alec’s eyes when he looked almost normal.

Magnus supposed he should not be surprised Alexander had learned to cry silently. Was this the first time he’d seen him cry? After almost dying, almost losing his sister, Max, his parabatai…his parents awful behavior and divorce, coming out as gay to a secret society of conservative warriors, being possessed, having Jace get possessed and kill numerous people, Izzy’s addiction problems, their own breakup…everything that had happened in the last year. Not a single tear from Alec that he could remember.

Until now.

And he was a disturbingly pretty crier.

One hand in Alexander’s hair, the other tracing tears from thick eyelashes down pale skin to the defined angle of jawbone, Magnus remembered what gave him relief in a similar moment. “Alexander.” He swiped both thumbs across Alec’s cheekbones, looking directly at the tearing hazel eyes his lover was trying to hide. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” 

A small smile crossed the Shadowhunter’s lips as they both remembered the revelation of tiger eyes. 

“Alexander, you don’t have to hide being upset from me. I am not your subordinate. I am not your little sister or your broken parabatai. Yes, you protect me. But I protect you, too. I. Am. Your. Partner.”

Magnus vaguely expected his mini speech to result in either a big sloppy kiss or Alec turning away again. 

He was wrong on both counts.

A convulsion of tremors started in Alexander’s lower torso and crept upwards, past his stomach, into his lungs, rocking his adam’s apple and finally hitting his face. Disturbingly silently, his body wracked in denied sobs, he dove towards Magnus.

In truth, neither Magnus nor Alec was overly bossy, physically. Nor were either of them particularly submissive. But in practice, especially in the quiet moments, Alexander was often the hold-er rather than the hold-ee by the mere fact of being the taller and larger of the two. 

Plus, the man had protective instincts the size of Canada.

But now, Magnus guided them in a controlled descent to the floor as Alec’s head tried to bury itself into his chest. He grabbed Alexander’s hands as the other man pounded knuckles to the floor and brought them up, wrapped them around his waist, then returned his own hands to Alexander’s body, one arm holding him tight and close and the other running over his head, his arms, his back – anywhere he could reach. 

Magnus remembered his own fear when Alec was lost to his parabatai connection, before they had a chance to even explore their feelings for each other. He remembered how close he came to losing Alec completely after the Owl stabbed him. Both times helpless himself, unable to act, unable to do anything but watch the decline.

A few tears of his own leaked through. There were vast differences between them, but more similarities than most would think. They protected their people. They lived by their codes. They didn’t let many in. Magnus had had Ragnor and still had Catarina. Alec had Jace and Izzy. But all of those relationships had other complications, hierarchies, feelings of protection. It was so hard to just…be with another person.

Alexander’s release didn’t last long.

As the shudders subsided, Alec’s grip loosened but he did not get up. They settled to the floor, Alec curled into Magnus, tears drying over both their bodies.

Eventually, head down, Alexander muttered, “Sorry.”

“Please do not apologize. You yet again held everything together while the world went to shit. It’s hardly surprising if you need a little time to come down from that place of heightened fear and anxiety.” 

Magnus hesitated but dared to delve into what he feared the Shadowhunter considered mushy hippie crap. “I’m honored that you’d let me be the one to help you when you’re feeling vulnerable.”

Alexander turned his head to look at Magnus, a glimmer of a smile on his face. “I don’t have the right words. You’re better with words. But I’m glad you’re ok, Magnus. I don’t want to think about ever living without you.”

“You’re great with words, for what it’s worth.”

“It’s worth a lot.”

Alexander, a much different expression sliding over his face, leaned into Magnus again and, keeping eye contact, slowly swiped his tongue across the now-dried tears along the slighter man’s abs.

Well.

A night for heightened emotions, indeed.

Magnus was up to the challenge.

Alec full-out grinned, his big doofy Alec grin that was only ever for Magnus, dried salt still crusting the corners of his eyes. “Remind me later to tell you who the new temporary High Warlock of Brooklyn is.”


End file.
